Patience is Just a Guns N' Roses Song
by Anneklok
Summary: Dean can't sleep and goes back to the scene of the crime, The Metallicar. Once inside, he gets paid a visit by Castiel who decides to have "the talk" with him. Sexiness ensues.


It's not that Dean had lost any faith in the angel who had gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. Dean hadn't ever been a believer or holder of faith, at least not in anything to do with a supposed benevolent higher power. He could believe in a few universal truths – evil existed, evil could be destroyed, he'd been one of the unlucky poor bastards fate chose to spend a life destroying it, his family would always be his number one priority, he would rather die, be tortured and suffer in hell before letting anything happen to Sammy, and of course, Sammy would always need his ass saved one way or another.

So, he hadn't really lost his faith in the angel, because you can't lose what you never had. However, he'd begun to notice a small scratch turning into an empty chasm around the edge of his very bruised ego. It had been a few days since the barn incident. It had taken more than a moment to process all that had happened in such a short time.

Dean lay on his side, curled up in the back seat of his baby. He'd left the motel room drenched in sweat in the middle of the night and took up refuge in the car. He'd had some misguided thoughts of pie or finding a dive to solicit a few willing townie girls for some mindless hard sex. That had ended in sitting at the driver's seat, leaning over the wheel, too exhausted to turn the ignition, but not sleepy enough to drop the seat back. So for a while he had gone inside his head. Only when he stepped out he caught a flash of black and tan out of the corner of his eye.

"Nice," Dean muttered with sarcasm dripping from his dry gravely voice.

Castiel offered no reply, save for turning his head, lowering his narrowed eye gaze at Dean. If it weren't for the patent on his serious expression Dean could have mistook his expression for contempt.

"Still no faith and no respect," answered the angel.

His eyes trained on Dean watching as he leaned back from the wheel and reclined against the leather seat. Dean relaxed his shoulders and forced the corners of his mouth and eyes to lift, feigning a light heart, and making even more obvious his smile's sarcasm. Dean licked his lips before brandishing his white grin, ready to lay waste to a snide remark pointed at this warrior of the lord. Castiel preemptively turned away, and for the first time in Dean's experience, he caught the slight sideways smile possessing Castiel's lips.

Dean cocked a perfectly arched eyebrow and his brow furrowed in effort to extend the confused expression.

"What?"

Castiel shook his head.

"My orders warned me this assignment would be -" He hesitated and when he'd found the word to suit his voice returned with a hint of misery, "difficult,"

"Yeah, saving the world is a bitch," Dean retorted, now putting on the mask of boredom, trying anyway he could to torpedo the conversation with smart ass remarks.

"Saving the world," Castiel said with a heavy sigh, "is an ongoing war that will take more than a lifetime."

"Well, you have all the time in the world. The rest of us, not so much, so if you could hurry this up a bit. I was trying to -"

"Trying to what?" Castiel interrupted, "Avoid nightmares, get some rest, stop reliving the recent past to fuel your insane need to self destruct,"

Dean paused and swallowed a heavy lump formed in his throat by the uncharacteristic frankness in which Castiel had just charged him.

"My difficult orders are to save you, Dean."

Silence filled the space between them and spread out through the interior of the Impala. Dean pursed his lips and looked away fully, turning his attention out his window. He observed the light fog hanging in the air, weightless and without true direction. The lamps beside motel doors that illuminated the parking lot cast a warm yellow glow on the mist. He tried to move his thoughts farther past the current weather conditions, but the snapping sound of light bulbs shattering and glass splintering snapped him out of even those mundane escapist thoughts. Sparks shot from the base of the lamps. The motel sign, popped, crackled and sparked until going pitch black.

Dean turned sharply, glaring at Castiel, about to snap at him for this display. Castiel had turned in his seat, facing Dean, chin tilted lower so his eyes shown big, round and blue – angry. He stared at Dean with a fierce expression. Dean shifted in his seat to disguise the shiver that accompanied the fearful chills that tickled over his arms and legs joining forces to raise every single hair on the back of his neck.

"You did save me. Raised me from the pit and all that," Dean offered in an effort to placate Castiel, to quell the obvious fury he'd incited somehow.

"To watch you do you this?" he asked, insulted, "Lay awake in agony, give yourself over to defeat again and again, to drag your burdens like a cross only to hang yourself on it without respite,"

"And!" Dean snapped angrily, made wholly unafraid by the emergence of his own pent up outrage, "Go to hell and see what it's like for forty years before you judge me. You're 'just' and 'perfect' and actually another unsympathetic asshole with no idea what I'm dealing with."

Castiel's lip twitched and he lunged for Dean. Hands groped Dean's face, thumbs resting on Dean's shut eyelids. He'd tried to evade Castiel and backed himself against the door. He couldn't resist this touch. He sat frozen, hands still on his knees, in a frozen stance trying to pull away. Castiel shut his eyes with his thumbs. He felt those thumbs resting on his eyelids.

"Show me."

"No," Dean breathed all efforts going into willing his head to move, to twist away and break the contact of the angel's hands pressed to his cheeks.

"How do you expect to be saved if you won't let someone save you? You can't save yourself, Dean."

Dean gritted his teeth as his jaw clenched involuntarily. He could hear the low growl welling up from Castiel's throat growing louder and more incensed. Dean shouted at him to stop, then pleaded, as the waves of forty years from start to finish – torment of hellhound's teeth to the touch of pure Grace – flashed through his mind on what seemed to be a direct path to be revealed to Castiel.

Dean heard a loud gasp and the hands cradling his face jerked away. Castiel's back hit the door with a loud thump. He moaned. Dean peaked through eyes welling up with tears, looking over the wide-eyed human visage of Castiel – horror struck and now eternally scarred with the true knowledge of hell.

"And you would do this again?" Castiel whispered awestruck and still dazed, "For him, your brother Sam, with the demon blood?"

Dean flinched at the last words, but nodded slowly.

"He's my brother. I sure as shit wouldn't send him there in my place." he gruffly replied, the old Dean with the tough as nails exterior slowly taking back over.

"Without orders?" Castiel asked again, Dean recognized the shock lacing his voice, something he thought only a human could be capable of.

"Without orders," Dean confirmed, wiping his tear stained cheeks quickly.

Castiel sat up, leaving his back pressed against the door and window. Dean watched him move with that intense purpose in every muscle. He never took his eyes off Dean as he righted himself and leaned forward, invading Dean's space the way he now knew threw the hunter off balance every time. Dean bit down on his own bottom lip, chewing on it nervously as he averted his eyes down to his lap, far away from Castiel's blue eyes.

"I thought saving you meant just from hell. Now I see it's more."

"Let me guess, you have to save me from saving Sammy, the demon blood boy," Dean guessed irritably.

"From yourself,"

"Original," he scoffed, "That's very poetic and all, but I'm good,"

"Are you?"

"Yeah," Dean exhaled uncomfortably, looking up from his lap to survey the still darkness surrounding the car now that all the lights had been blown out around them.

Castiel's gaze had drifted to the back seat of the Impala. Dean followed his eyes, trying to decipher just what they had noticed. When he glanced back to Castiel, the angel's eyes moved back, meeting Dean's. Without resistance Castiel held his gaze and leaned impossibly farther forward. Dean stiffened, unwilling to pull back to escape the closeness.

"Jealous?" Dean gloated, with a cheeky flick of his brows.

The thoughts of his tryst with the former Angel in female form came to mind. Castiel tilted his head to the left, examining Dean's expression. He gently shook his head with another disappointed sigh escaping his lips and leaned back from his charge.

"Aw," Dean falsely pouted, mocking Castiel, "Didn't you say that you two had history?"

"Which is exactly why she would throw herself onto you?"

Dean shrugged with a laugh of pride, "Yeah, whatever,"

"To really get beneath my," Castiel offered a humored smirk at the figure of speech and its many inconsistencies with the truth, "skin,"

"Take it from me, she's over you." He added with a cocky smirk.

"You have it wrong, Dean."

"How's that? Am I your hellboy?" came the indignant ferocious response, "You still _that_ worried about my soul, Cas? Gotta make sure I follow the straight and narrow, and dig deep into my business."

"Get in the back seat," he commanded deadpan.

"Sorry?" Dean asked both eyebrows arched and eyes wide with annoyed confusion.

"You heard me,"

"No, you don't get –"

Before Dean could finish his seat dropped back unexpectedly, smacking against the rear bench seat. He fell with it and landed flustered, glaring up Castiel. For a moment he thought he noticed a twitch in the very corner of the angel's eye. Just as he opened his mouth to shout, Castiel's hand lifted and Dean slid backward from front seat onto back. Dean balked at the use of unseen power to push him backward and land him where Castiel had ordered him to go in the first place. Dean lay frozen by his own startled fearful human nature and Castiel calmly climbed from the front seat into the back.

"Care to continue?" the angel of the Lord asked the stunned man whom he'd effectively laid tossed easily to the back seat of the Impala.

Dean lay on his back with his knees bent and his arms stretched out in front of him impassively. Castiel sat in a crouch at Dean's feet with his back against the passenger door. He moved forward toward Dean who did nothing to resist and merely pulled his arms in closer to his chest. Castiel's eyes locked on his and the intensity that had shone in the angel's clear blue eyes dissolved leaving in it's place the gentle sincerity that had been there when he'd entered the car. Dean swallowed uncomfortably, but Castiel continued forward pushing down Dean's knees to allow him past. Castiel straddled Dean's lap and the silence between them broke.

"Are you on top of me?" Dean asked, dumbly as the question had to be rhetorical.

"I am," came the reply.

"Dude, I don't even know what the hell kind of angel-school you went to, but down here that is not part of the brocabulary," Dean argued.

Castiel's head tilted to the side, and the puzzled expression returned, the one that let Dean know that Castiel had no understand or patience for silly human customs. Dean pursed his lips and frowned, but the blush that rose to his cheeks followed by the chill bumps rising first on his arms and coursing down to his legs told a different story. Despite his macho ramblings, he wanted this.

Dean lifted his back from the seat intending to sit up and push Castiel away. Castiel's hands touched his warm sides pulling Dean's body closer to his. Dean struggled to now pull back away from the angel moving closer to him. Fear took over and he panicked when he felt his chest pressing against Castiel's. He tilted his head back to avoid further contact and leaned backward further pressing his back hard against the leather seat. The weight of the angel upon him spread out over him now from his lap to his chest. Dean let out a gasp of breath and Castiel took that opportunity to cover Dean's lips with his, crushing them in a forceful kiss.

Dean reached up with both hands, cupping Castiel's cheeks, pulling him in closer. The abandon he felt when the angelic lips touched his quieted any apprehensions he had or panic at this new twist.

_Please_ he thought earnestly_ Please let Sam stay asleep. I need this._

Dean kissed back parting his full lips almost immediately letting a moan rush from his throat. Castiel hips shifted so he rubbed firmly against Dean, eliciting another deep growl of pleasure from the hunter roughly locking lips to his. Dean briefly wondered how Castiel had any knowledge of the right moves he'd been making so far.

Then a cool hand with firm fingers slipped over the waist of his pants stroking the downy soft hair just above his waistband. Before he could object or even insist the cool fingertips slid beneath the waistband and further below circling Dean's bare cock. He'd run out of underwear a day prior and had been hoping for a laundromat to enter his future, but this had renewed his belief in happy accidents. He moaned again into Castiel's soft hot mouth and lapped his tongue against the angel's.

The vissage Castiel had chosen had a perfect manner about him - suit, coat, tie and every hair always in the correct place. Dean wanted to tousel that hair and dishshevel that appearance beyond the bounds of what he'd witnessed done during a fight. He wanted the body on top of his shuddering and out of breath, sweat soaked and blushing skin, and curses pouring torturously erotic from his mouth. Of all the abominations he'd done in hell and all the wrong things he'd done on earth this had to be at the very top of the weighted list. He could never best this warrior in battle, but maybe he could best him in the second best talent he'd perfected - fucking.

The puppeted vessel's hand stroked his soft silky skin threatening to bring about an eruption with the slightest increase in speed. He locked his jaw and gritted his teeth for a moment to regain his composure. When the moment of weakness passed he tilted back his head and parted his lips thrusting his tongue into Castiel's hot mouth, past his puckered pink lips. Castiel returned the fierce kiss and with a gentle squeeze of his fingers testing the reaction of Dean's to a little more pressure he continued to stroke at the even pace. Dean released Castiel's cheeks sliding one hand along the scruffy jawline along Castiel's throat. His other hand delved between their hard pressed bodies, unbuckling his belt with slight difficulty and unbuttoning and unzipping his fly with greater ease giving more room to work with.

Dean's thoughts wandered to the fantasy of what it would feel like to thrust firmly rather than to be stroked. He imagined more than just a fist wrapped around him and the heat of burying himself deep inside Castiel. Could he even bare to be that humanly close to the extraordinary being. If not, at least at that moment he could dream as the first pumped away at him in the backseat of the Impala.

Dean felt the growl escape Castiel's throat reverberated over his tongue and lips, sending shivers along his jaw and down his chest. He bucked his hips up, thrusting up so that Castiel's palm slipped further than before, palming past the base of Dean's cock grazing his balls. He reared back slightly and dragged the fist back to the tip smiling through the kiss with satisfaction. Castiel broke the kiss and increased the speed of his stroke, his hand never failing to keep the firmness of the stroke going. His rough cheek brushed against Dean's short five o' clock shadow when he dipped lower to nuzzle at his neck just below his jawline.

Dean gasped for breath as he came closer to the inevitable release and the unfortunate quick end to the current encounter. He moaned quietly as he ever had the tension and quiet in the atmosphere and the air so hot and thick as the sweat began to bead on them both. Castiel's whisper and the brush of hot breath swept over his ear.

"Patience," he whispered, as Dean lifted his hips to meet the strokes with thrusts of his own happening against his will as he tried to control himself and let Castiel have his way, "is a virtue, Dean."

Dean quaked with the tightening of his muscles and he panted rather than moaned. Castiel breathed hard against his ear and Dean turned his head to the sound. He saw Castiel's eyes fall shut and he heard a short low growl. Dean's vision blurred yet he could not look away from Castiel and did not want to. He peaked and pinched his eyes shut as he found his release, with a grateful long winded breathy moan.

"Patience," Castiel whispered, gently before he leaned back rising from his position atop Dean.

Dean watched Castiel retreat back down his outstretched legs until he had his back pressed to the other side of the back seat opposite Dean. He shut his eyes licking first over his fingers taking the essense of Dean with his tongue. Dean's eyes drooped shut and he had to remind himself to gasp again for breath as he'd been holding it during the unwanted retreat. He didn't doubt now that when he opened them he'd be alone, sweaty, dissheveled and sticky. So he held to the last whispered word and thought about the ways he'd like to celebrate the end of all his patient waiting, and his new single minded goal of leaving Castiel tousel haired, shiny with sweat, gasping one moment and moaning Dean's name the next.


End file.
